


Puppy Love

by thomasmxller



Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Ridiculousness, implied future relationship, no really i watched that video with sascha and lövik and then this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-27 18:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12587956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasmxller/pseuds/thomasmxller
Summary: It had been easy, at first, when they weren’t friends, when the locker-room after their matches was filled with silence or biting words or scathing criticism. When Sascha had still been Alexander, the word pushed out of his lips in a half sneer or even earlier when it had just been a poorly pronounced Zverev.





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> so... this happened? un-beta'd so any mistakes are mine and im gonna apologize because there are probably some dumb ones. theoretically its set during sometime during the tour's swing in asia... 
> 
> Disclaimer: i don't own these people, this is not real, it didn't happen.
> 
> If you found this by googling yourself, the exit button should be your next click lol.

    It’s nearly 9 in the evening by the time Nick finishes with his hitting session. His breath is coming in short burst, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck when his coach finally decides they’re done. Head pounding, he makes his way over to the bench, patting his face dry with the available towel before draining the rest of his water bottle. Sebastian joins him on the bench and starts to talk about anything and everything they’d gone over that day, the grip of his backhand , his net play, the stress on his knees, things Nick knows he should pay attention to but chooses instead to nod along, humming and hawing at all the right places, letting his mind wander instead. After a while, Sebastian rises, indicating an end in their post practice analysis and signals for Nick to follow off court to Physio. 

 

The complex they practice in consists of a handful of side-by-side hard courts, each separated and afforded a bit of privacy by a white tarp, the entrance to the building near the mouth of the first court. Nick had decided the week before to rent out the back court, so leaving, they pass through each court, most empty due to the lateness of the hour. 

 

They’ve come all the way through to the first court before running into another player, and when nick finally catches a glimpse of who it is, he slows down a half step. 

 

The unmistakable figure of Alexander Zverev stands on the other side of the court, dancing back and forth as he effortlessly lobs cross court shot at his hitting partner. He finally wins the point, his well placed ball flying just out of reach of the outstretched arm of …  _ Mischa _ ? 

 

Sascha raises a fist in celebration , whooping loudly at his success. Mischa, meanwhile mutters something under his breath, then yells at Sascha in Russian before walking over to the bench. Sascha follows, laughing at some joke Nick is probably too Australian to understand.

 

A whistle snaps Nick back to reality, his coach standing amusedly two meters ahead of him. 

 

Sebastian raises an eyebrow and tilts his head towards the door, as if to ask, ‘ well, are you coming.’ 

 

Nick just shakes his head but follows, forcing himself not to track Sascha’s (long, graceful) steps out of the corner of his eyes. 

 

‘You can look all you want,’ Sebastian says quietly, ‘ just remember, at the end of the week, he’s your opponent.’ 

 

‘No chance I forget that, mate,’ Nick replies, grimacing slightly. Their head to head may lean in his favor but Sascha has never made it an easy. 

 

They’re just about at the door when a voice (Nick would recognize in his sleep quite honestly) calls out to them. 

They turn towards the voice, of course, and Sebastian’s elbow comes up to jostle at Nick’s side. 

 

‘Play nice,’ he whispers under his breath, as if Nick needs a reminder. 

 

‘Alright alright,’ he responds, the smile on his face (horrifyingly) less forced than he expected. 

 

Sascha walks towards them at a half jog, not ten feet away, when his mother intercepts, handing something to him before walking off on a phone call. 

 

Oh. 

 

She hadn’t handed Sascha something, rather someone. 

 

In the German players’ hands is clutched no-one other than his beloved Lövik. 

 

It had gotten harder, in the recent months, to deny the tension between himself and Sascha. There was no denying the younger man was beautiful, and Nick had long since come to terms with his apparent bisexuality. There was just something about Sascha, his body all long lines, lean muscle , his face the most fascinating combination of a hard jaw line and a… 

 

It had been easy, at first, when they weren’t friends, when the locker-room after their matches was filled with silence or biting words or scathing criticism. When Sascha had still been  _ Alexander _ , the word pushed out of his lips in a half sneer or even earlier when it had just been a poorly pronounced  _ Zverev _ . Before there were Whatsapp messages inquiring about anything and everything, from the state of his injured knee to his thoughts on the NBA finals. 

 

_ When _ , he asks himself as Sascha approaches, pup in hand,  _ did handshakes at the net become hugs, and when did the gruff ‘good game’ become ‘good luck in the next round?  _

 

_ This is just unfair,  _ he thinks to himself. And he’s right. Sascha is holding Lovik like he’s his baby, his body cradled gently in the crook of his right elbow, his right hand securing him against his chest while his left scratches soothingly at his stomach. Even as he’s walking, Sascha brings his face up to his, Lovik more than happy to lick at the sweat salty skin of his nose. 

 

Nick is so distracted by how fucking adorable the two of them are that he doesn’t realize he’s being talked to until about halfway through the first sentence. 

 

‘- just didn’t think anyone else would be here this late honestly,’ Sascha finishes, his eyes flickering back and forth between Lovik and Nick. 

 

‘Yeah, well ummm,’ Nick pauses for half a moment, rolling his gum around his mouth, avoiding Sascha’s eye so he can find his words, ‘You know with the jetlag and all, we figured it’d be better.’ 

 

One of Sascha’s eyebrows’ raises. 

 

‘Jetlag? Still?’ he asks, smirk a bit, ‘Wow , Nick, we’ve been in Asia for nearly two weeks. What have you been getting up to at night, then ,  _ mate _ .’ 

 

The word falls awkwardly off Sascha’s tongue, his american lilt too forced to overcome the german to sound natural, but he waves his eyebrows saying it, and the combination is enough to elicit a cuckle from Nick. 

 

‘Well, you know me,’ Nick responds vaguely, lifting his free hand to the labradoodle’s nose, allowing the pup a moment to familiarize himself with Nick, before reaching a hand behind his ears to scratch gently. 

 

‘And what is the name of this gorgeous creature?’ he asks, despite already knowing the answer. 

 

Sascha’s eyebrows furrow. 

 

‘You haven’t met Lövik?’ 

 

‘Well, you’ve never formally introduced us? So, no, I haven’t had the pleasure.’

 

‘Well then,’ Sascha says, seriousness in his tone,’ Lövik, Nick. Nick, this is Lövik.’ 

 

He sets Lövik on the court and gets on his knees, motioning for Nick to do the same. He does so but not before handing his bag off to Sebastian. 

 

‘Ready?’ Sascha asks, mysteriously hopeful glint in his eyes, ‘I’ve been practice this one with him for a bit,’ he continues under his breath. 

 

Nick flinches slightly as Sascha’s hand grabs at his, and opens it so his palm faces upwards. 

 

‘Maybe give a man a bit of a warning next time, mate,’ Nick grumbles halfheartedly, ‘you’re hands are like ice. ‘ 

 

‘Sorry,’ Sascha replies with a toothy, grin, not looking in the least bit sorry, ‘ poor circulation. A lot of us taller guys struggle with it. You probably wouldn’t understand.’ 

 

‘Ah fuck off. I’m only five centimeters shorter than you .’ 

 

‘Of course you are. Anyways, ready?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer, just focuses intently on Lövik and orders calmly, ‘Lapa.’

 

The dog tilts his head, but raises his paw in response, setting it down cautiously on Nick’s outstretched hand. Nick raises and lowers it in a gentle mimic of a handshake. 

 

‘There.’ Sascha states, sounding more triumphant than usual. ‘You have been formally introduced.’ 

 

‘Sascha!’ Mischa interrupts, ‘Auf geht’s! Break time’s over!’ 

 

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.’ 

 

They both stand, Sascha scooping the pup into his arms as he does so. Nick moves, unconsciously almost, towards Sascha, to scratch behind Lövik’s one last time, in a form of goodbye. 

 

‘Now, that we’ve been officially introduced, mate, I can say for absolute certainty that you’re the prettiest Zverev.’ 

 

A noise of indignation rises from somewhere on the court. 

 

‘Sorry, Mischa, you’re just going to have to accept that fact.’ 

 

Sascha just laughs, and clasps Nick’s hand in his free one. 

 

‘Get out of here before he decides to send a serve our way.’ 

 

‘See you on the court.’ 

 

Sascha nods once, flashing a smile, then turns to walk back to his bench, once more nuzzling Lövik’s face against his own. 

 

‘Oy,’ Sebastian says from over his shoulder ,‘Physio. Then bed, apparently. Wouldn’t want jetlag to affect your matches.’ 

 

Nick nods, then, glancing once more at the retreating figure, walks out the door. This problem, he conceded to himself, would not be resolved anytime soon. 

**Author's Note:**

> yup okay... i watched that video of sascha will a puppy and suddenly he was the softest boy in the world!! i know thierev is the preferred ship and people have lots of opinions about nick but i feel like they could have a really interesting dynamic because of their attitudes and how people think of Nick vs how they think of sascha... well now im rambling but let me know what you think!


End file.
